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Gonna Browse Their Way Right Into Another Store

, , , , | Working | May 12, 2020

A new furniture store opens up in town, and my boyfriend and I decide to go check it out. We just want to browse and compare prices, not buy anything. Their website has completely different furniture; if it weren’t for that, I would much rather not have to deal with this sales lady on this day. 

Sales Lady: “Hello. Welcome to our store! Is there anything you’re looking for?”

Me: “Oh, no, thank you. We’re just browsing.”

Sales Lady: “Okay, let me know if you have any questions or need any help.”

Me: “Thank you.”

Literally three minutes later…

Sales Lady: “Looking for something specific? We have sets on sale for $800.”

Me: “No, thank you, just browsing.”

Five minutes later, across the store…

Sales Lady: “What’s your income? What’s your spending limit so I can point you in the right direction?”

Me: “We’re just looking right now. We just moved and need to save a little.”

I was irritated. She was trying to make a sale; it was more than obvious. After a few more minutes, she came around again asking what we were looking for. We told her nothing and left. I looked online to see if the company works on commission. They don’t. The lady also has a ton of complaints on Yelp and Google for harassing them too much.

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We Have A Hutch That This Company Has A Messy Desk

, , , , , | Working | May 6, 2020

I am about to turn thirteen. My mother wants to get a desk from a popular shipping site for me, so she goes on a popular company’s store website and orders the desk, complete with a hutch.

Desk #1 looks nothing like the one we ordered, so we call the company and they offer to send us a new one, just like the one we ordered, for free.

We have high hopes for desk #2, but when it arrives it is dinged up and things are off-center, so we take pictures of the damage, and the company again offers to send a new one at a reduced price. I joke to my mother and tell her that if it keeps going like this, we’ll have a free desk.

Lo and behold, desk #3 is damaged, and the hutch is even worse off. The company apologizes profusely, and my mother, being a patient person, tells them that if the next one is damaged, we will be taking our business elsewhere. The company offers to have somebody inspect it personally moments before it is packaged, to which we agree.

Five days after my thirteenth birthday, the desk arrives, and in no condition to be used. The workers that brought our desk upstairs — also provided as compensation by the company — even say we should ask for a refund.

My mother gives up. We’ve never ordered from that company again.

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Of Course You Won’t

, , , , | Working | April 3, 2020

(I used to work as a front desk/secretary/whatever the h*** the owners thought they needed for a furniture store. Hindsight being what it is, I brought a lot of the issues on myself because I didn’t fight hard enough at the beginning, but still…)

Manager: “I need you to come in tomorrow for a few hours because I have to take my daughter to the dentist.”

(I normally have Tuesday and Wednesday off, but she is asking me to come in on Tuesday.)

Me: “Sure. But since you’re going to be so long, can I just work all day and then take the next Wednesday and Thursday off, instead?”

(Timing-wise, between appointments and travel to and from the office, getting her daughter back to school and then getting to the store, the day is going to be like two-thirds done.)

Manager: “That should be fine.”

(On the day of the dentist appointment, the manager shows up and the day is actually like 80% over.)

Manager: “Oh, by the way, I need you in on Thursday because I won’t be here.”

Me: *stunned silence*

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Quebecois-wha?

, , , , | Right | February 18, 2020

(I am a manager for a large, well-known Canadian furniture and appliance retailer that stocks many items in-store. Like any modern business, we have terminals to take debit and credit cards. The financial institution that provides these terminals and services to us is based out of the province of Quebec, as many financial institutions in Canada are, especially ones involved with the furniture, appliance, and electronic retail industry. I am at the front desk when one of our sales associates comes up with a customer to put through a sale for a freezer. The customer has several pounds of meat arriving to him tomorrow and needs a freezer in-stock to preserve it. Everything goes normally up until right after the sale is paid for and completed, and then this happens:)

Customer: “I need to cancel this order.”

Associate: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I’M CANCELLING THIS AND GETTING MY F****** MONEY BACK!!”

Associate: “Whoa, we can do that, but what’s the problem?”

Customer: “I see on your terminal that [Our Company] banks with [Quebec Financial Institution]!”

Me: “Well, yes, they provide us with terminals and things like our financing plans…”

Customer: “That’s bulls***! We don’t want [Our Company] here in the west if you do business with Quebec!”

Me: “Sir, I’m not sure I understand the issue here. You don’t want to do business with us because we have terminals from [Quebec Financial Institution]?”

Customer: “Obviously! Quebec doesn’t want a pipeline for our oil but has no problem leeching off our economy to fund their government!”

(The customer proceeds to rant about the oil, the Quebec government, and French people for a minute. To clarify, in recent news, Quebec shot down a plan to have a pipeline built across Canada between our provinces for Alberta’s oil industry. Pipelines can be a controversial topic to some, but apparently, some more than others.)

Me: “Sir, you do understand that [Quebec Financial Institution] is a private business and has nothing to do with the Quebec Government?

Customer: “I don’t care! Quebec and the French won’t be getting any of my money! Now hurry up with my refund so I can take my business elsewhere!”

Me: “All right, but there’s no need for that kind of talk.”

(At this point, my general manager, who is partially French himself, must have overheard part of the conversation, and walks over to the till.)

General Manager: *slightly annoyed* “What’s this about the French? I’m French.”

Customer: *sarcastically* “Good for you.”

(My associate and I get nervous and urge our GM to step away, assuring him we’ll handle this so nothing escalates, which thankfully it doesn’t, even though I’m getting fed up with this customer at this point. I finish up the paperwork and refund the customer.)

Customer: “Make sure you write down the real reason I’m cancelling this, not something made-up!”

Me: “Oh, yes, it’s already written here; no one would believe me if it wasn’t.”

Customer: “I’ll be getting a hold of your home office, telling them we don’t want your company here if this is who you do business with!”

Me: “Yeah, good luck with that.”

(The customer finishes up with our associate, and then proceeds to storm towards the doors.)

Associate: “There you go, sir. Good luck finding a freezer!”

Customer: “Oh, I will! There are better companies here that don’t deal with the French! I’ll be going to [Competitor]!”

Me: *yelling over to ensure he can hear* “We own them!”

Customer: *yelling back* “Then I won’t be going there! I’ll just go to [Different Competitor]!”

Me: “They deal with [Quebec Financial Institution], as well, and they don’t stock appliances!”

Customer: “F*** YOU!”

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Should Have Shown The Table People The Door

, , , , | Working | February 17, 2020

(For a couple of years, my boyfriend and I lived in a teeny-tiny one-bedroom apartment with probably the smallest kitchen table there is to buy. Therefore, we are thrilled when we finally get our new apartment since it allows us to buy a new table that can fit all of our friends and family. The table is 2.5m long or approximately 8.2 feet. When ordering it, I pay extra for delivery up to the fifth floor. The elevator is big but not so big that it can hold a 2.5m-long table plus wrapping. Therefore, the instructions are that, on delivery day, there will be two persons from the delivery firm, carrying the table up the stairs. Seems simple, eh? The day of delivery:)

Delivery Guy: “I’m here to deliver a package for [My Name].”

Me: “That’s me, but you were supposed to be two persons.”

Delivery Guy: “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll fix this.”

(The delivery guy proceeds to take the table out of the truck, gets the table inside the apartment building — only because I hold the door open for him — and then lowers the table onto the floor in a brusque way. When the elevator arrives, he tries to shove the table inside the elevator car but since the table is longer than the car, when the doors closes, the table is sticking out quite a bit. He then tries to lean the table so that one side of it hits the roof and the other side hits the tile-clad floor. This continues for several minutes, while sweat is starting to break out on my skin. Bear in mind that this is a rather expensive table, at least for a twenty-something couple that has just bought an apartment.)

Me: “Are you sure about this? I did pay for two people to deliver this via the stairs.”

Delivery Guy: “Oh, no problem. It’s just a really small elevator.”

Me: *under my breath* “Well, it really isn’t.”

(New accessibility rules state that the elevators in new houses must have certain measurements; it’s a really big elevator. The delivery guy tries to take out the table from the car, shoving it into the glass doors in the hallway, then on the floor, then into the ceiling, making a large dent in it. By now I’m really sweaty because I know there is going to be at least one dent in the table.)

Delivery Guy: “I’m gonna try and take this via the stairs but the table is really heavy. How many stairs is it?”

Me: “It’s on the fifth floor.”

Delivery Guy: *lets out a heavy sigh and tries the stairs only to realize that the table is too heavy* “I’m gonna call a colleague and get some help.”

(In the end, the two delivery people got the table up the stairs and into the apartments. The whole thing took approximately an hour and a half. Nearly all corners were dented and I had to lodge a claim with the store. The new table arrived a couple of days later, via a different delivery firm, was brought up the stairs by two delivery people instantly, and had no dents when they were done.)

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